Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Mauritania and from New York.
But I was there.
I was there in 1984.
I was there at the first Arcadia show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1965 to 1979.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Columbus and Toronto.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Spokane kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Ubu practice in a loft in Cleveland.
I was working on the rhodes sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Sound Behaviour to the crunk kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Johnny Osbourne. All the underground hits.
All Arab on Radar tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every F. McDonald record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal techno hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a The Pop Group record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your rhodes and bought a sitar.
I hear that you and your band have sold your sitar and bought a rhodes.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Electric Prunes,
Unwound,
Babytalk,
Godley & Creme,
Rotary Connection,
The Real Kids,
Funkadelic,
Masters at Work,
The Smoke,
James Chance & The Contortions,
Whodini,
Angry Samoans,
Sun Ra,
Bang on a Can All-Stars,
The J.B.'s,
Khruangbin,
Sixth Finger,
Eric Dolphy,
Subhumans,
Dorothy Ashby,
Supertramp,
Amon Düül II,
Lower 48,
The Tremeloes,
Flamin' Groovies,
Wasted Youth,
Sarah Menescal,
Max Romeo,
David Bowie,
Circle Jerks,
D'Angelo,
Stetsasonic,
Isaac Hayes,
Sonny Sharrock,
Eddi Front,
Pussy Galore,
Mantronix,
Wolf Eyes,
Cecil Taylor,
The Golliwogs,
Lafayette Afro Rock Band,
Barrington Levy,
Maurizio,
Jawbox,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Zero Boys,
Glenn Branca,
Das Ding,
Groovy Waters,
Rekid,
Gong,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Nation of Ulysses,
Richard Hell and the Voidoids,
Lou Christie,
T. Rex,
Eric Copeland,
the Normal,
The Kinks,
Suicide,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario, Ralphi Rosario.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.